


Trust Me

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: HaiKise Week, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:30:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7663132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shougo is a pessimist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Me

The hands on the clock feel like they’re slowing down, acting every bit as tired and sluggish as Shougo feels right now. Twelve hours cooped up in a shitty office building, shifting in this shitty chair in order to make his back scream at him a little less loudly, has been a bit of a strain. He’s had longer days, but those longer days have all been more productive than this day of sitting through meeting after meeting after meeting until his eyes are sore from staring at projections and figures and it’s almost enough to make him want to fling off his dress shirt, proudly display his tattoos, and run the fuck out of there so he can go back to being a waiter (because those twelve-hour shifts are really looking appealing right now because at least he’ll have built-in breaks).

Next to him, his coworker is playing games on her phone, and Shougo scowls. He’s not even trying to pay attention to the deal at this point (and it’s not like he’s an important part of this deal or even really needs to be here for any reason other than billing the client for more people) but his own phone has long since been out of charge. He looks at the clock; maybe it’s a good thing that time is slowing down because otherwise he’s never going to make it to today’s game.

He doesn’t always come, but it’s usually a matter of him telling Ryouta he’s got extra work coming up and it gives the others a few days to scrape up another player (usually Tetsuya, but at least Shougo doesn’t have to play with him) but today’s length was unprecedented. Shougo had figured he’d be home in time to recharge his phone when he’d left in the morning; right as it was dying he still thought it might be the case (or at least he’d be out by now, with enough time to change and get to the park). He taps his pen against his slacks; how much longer can they decide? Haven’t they reviewed all the numbers and figures twice already?

How the hell is he going to contact Ryouta? (Not that it makes a difference at this point; there’s no way in hell this meeting is ending soon and no way in hell he’s getting over to the park in time and no way in hell they’ll be able to scrape up a replacement in time. They’re going to hate him, not that any of them like him already—except for Ryouta, who’s his boyfriend and thus kind of has to like him.)

The client clears her throat, and Shougo’s boss’s eyes snap toward her.

“Sir,” she says, “I think at this point we should downsize.”

“Downsize?” Shougo’s boss repeats.

“Yes. I think, that unless everyone here is absolutely essential to the analysis of Package 3D, then they should go. I’m sure they all have other obligations.”

She’s thinking about paying for all those hours, too; bless her. And she’s got Shougo’s boss in a trap; he’d introduced them all with their specialties at the beginning and they all know only Takada and Hirose have even looked at that package (and both of them look terrified right now and Shougo can’t blame them; being alone with the client and the boss doesn’t sound like fun but, hey, it sucks to be them).

“Get on out,” the boss grumbles, and Shougo does not need to be told twice.

He practically runs down the stairs to the lobby, loafers pinching his feet as he goes. There’s no time to change into sneakers now, not when he still has a chance at catching the 6:30 subway if he busts his ass to the station. And there’s no time at all to change into his basketball clothes, but showing up in business attire is the best he can manage.

The train is just pulling in as Shougo races down into the station; he pays his fare and shoves his way in through the doors and right in front of some school kid to an open seat. Score. He changes his shoes, pointedly ignoring other people’s dirty looks.

He doesn’t even know what time it is when the train reaches his stop, just that he probably has to run to the park. His bag is slapping against his side as he runs but Shougo really doesn’t care, even about how stupid he must look, running in this outfit with sneakers, as long as he gets there. And then he sees them.

“Hey!” he shouts.

They don’t seem to hear him.

“Hey!” he repeats, even louder, and his breath can’t take sprinting this whole way and shouting on top of this and fuck, he is not going to tire himself out before he even gets a chance to take the tipoff.

This time, Ryouta turns. “Shougo-kun!”

“Don’t fucking start without me!” Shougo calls back.

He can see five of them there, Ryouta and Shintarou and Nakamura and Takao and yeah, that’s fucking Tetsuya alright, but there’s no way Shougo’s letting him take his place. He’s still running hard, breathing hard, but he’s going to make it.

“Are you wearing a suit?” Shintarou asks, before Shougo can even catch his breath (but he can still roll his eyes). “You really don’t take this seriously.”

“Hey, come on,” says Takao, “at least he finally showed up.”

And Shougo wants to shout that he arrives on time every time when he says he will, that he comes to these more often than Takao and with earlier notice when he won’t and that that guy has absolutely no fucking reason to talk, but it’s probably not worth it.

“I see you’ve arrived, Haizaki-kun,” says Tetsuya, and at that point Shougo’s expression morphs from neutral to a full-on scowl.

“Whatever, let’s just play,” he says, nodding toward their opponents.

Ryouta hasn’t spoken a word throughout all of this, and Shougo supposes that’s better than him saying something cruel like the rest of them (well, Nakamura’s too chicken, but excluding him). And he’s looking at Shougo with a weird expression on his face, like something’s happened. This can’t be good; Shougo feels the familiar fire licking at his insides, the surging, flickering doubt like flames doused with lighter fluid. But he ignores it and rolls up his sleeves.

* * *

“Shougo-kun,” Ryouta says.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear back from you and everyone was getting anxious and Takao-kun called Kurokocchi anyway, and—”

Shougo holds up his hand; he doesn’t want to hear any excuses. They don’t trust him; Ryouta doesn’t trust him. It’s whatever and it’s how things are always going to be, especially between him and Ryouta, no matter how much they patch things up (or try to) and no matter how long they’re friends or boyfriends or whatever. This thing was built on a foundation of dislike, and no matter how much Ryouta tries to trust him (if he even is) that’s never going to happen.

“No, Shougo-kun, listen; I was worried about you!”

Shougo drops his hand. Worried? Ryouta? About something other than dropping his eyelash curler behind Shougo’s dirty sink?

“I kept texting you and you didn’t even respond to the mean ones or the concerned ones or anything, and even when you’re doing important work stuff you always find time, and…I don’t know, okay?”

Ryouta’s biting his lip and twisting his hands and he actually looks pretty cute and, whoa. Shougo wants to start saying some kind of smarmy reply but his mouth isn’t really working the way it usually does, just kind of hanging open as he stares at Ryouta, because whatever the fuck he was preparing himself for this wasn’t it at all and this might be the exact .

“I know you take this seriously, okay? And I know you always make time for it even though you complain about everyone and about being tired after work because you’re a really horrible liar, Shougo-kun.”

Shougo’s mouth is finally working again, and he wants to choke out a denial (he’s a great liar, thank you very much) but something’s telling him this isn’t the right time.

“Wait,” Shougo says. “Do you want me to apologize?”

Ryouta gives him that nonverbal-are-you-serious look (that somehow only ever gets used on him, and way too often) and all that cuteness is suddenly gone and, ugh.

“I’m sorry my phone died and my boss sucks at time management,” Shougo says, kicking a rock on the sidewalk.

Ryouta’s still giving him that look (Shougo wants to tell him he’ll waste that pretty face if it freezes in an expression like this, but this is also inappropriate and hey, he’d like to think he’s gotten better at situational awareness).

“I’m sorry I made you worry, Ryouta. Even if you did look cute.”

Ryouta rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling and Shougo’s kind of surprised he hasn’t pulled out a prank camera or something (like this is some elaborate ruse to get him to apologize—and he’d meant it, damn it). So he throws his arm around Ryouta’s shoulders and doesn’t say anything for now (but once he plugs in his phone and reads those texts, he’ll probably have a lot to say to Ryouta).

**Author's Note:**

> haikise week day 2: work & teammates


End file.
